Finally

Although the resemblance surely isn't more than vaguely passing, my students sometimes have a hard time telling the difference between me and a crutch. Either that or a secret decoder ring or better yet an answer key, especially when it gets to finals week, especially when they haven't studied. Isn't Ms. P's brain available for rent?

"Which one's the equator, up and down or across?"
"That's what they're asking you."

"What's the difference between weight and mass?"
"Same as it's been all semester."

"Do I multiply these two?"
"What do you think you should do?"

Surely it goes without saying that these are my least favorite days of the year. To read test questions aloud is a legit ESL strategy, a way to make sure that what a kid knows isn't being blocked by lack of English or just a poorly worded question; that would actually be against the law. These kids are almost entirely past that, but still they show up and we go in circles, every now and then stumbling upon something for which they need real assistance. In the meantime I go slowly insane, trying to help the kids who really do need it as my classroom gets fuller and fuller, and then, every other hour, trying to give my own tests in my own actual classes as students waltz in with algebra and history and child development and health and western civ.

Between the constant influx and mixed-up finals schedule, more than once I have to be reminded who should be where or what I was doing and my patience comes and goes. How can I get one of those gigs that concludes with students silently coloring in scantron sheets at the end of every semester? I have a feeling I refuse them, but for the life of me I can't recall why.

It might have something to do with the Christmas card I'm holding, the one full of teenage signatures, including a young mother's signed beneath, "thank you for supporting me." The roses were lovely, entirely unnecessary, but appreciated nonetheless. And chocolate covered cherries are among my daughter's favorites, so score one for the younger generation of Ps. Their thanks for my help might be sincere, might be flattery, might be a little of both, but the results will never change. We've got one more day of finals to go. I understand that reciprocation is gift-giving tradition, but I'm still not telling them what they do not know.